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After ten days of house arrest thanks to this stupid chest congestion and infection, I finally went out today. Of course I had to throw a mini tantrum to do it and the hubby said it had to be somewhere airtight and wind-less. So we chose to see a movie. A movie I’d been dying to see for over a month…in fact, it was supposed to be my birthday treat to myself and then my Valentine’s date with myself, but neither happened because the first time round, I was leaving for Delhi the next day and for V Day, of course, I was busy trying to keep my lungs in my chest.

It was beyond beautiful. It exceeded all my expectations and then some. My husband and I were transfixed and rendered speechless while the credits rolled.

So obviously all I am doing now is listening to the music on loop. I feel like a helium balloon…no, I feel like the house in “Up” being carried away by thousands of colourful, helium balloons. I feel light on my feet, my insides are bursting with the feels and what can only be my spirit, is welling, soaring, singing and sighing.

The charm and magic of the music has not escaped by boys, 13 and 10. They’re studying for their finals now, but they keep getting lured by this siren music. The younger one sidles up to me, text book in hand and says, “Mamma, can you keep playing that music while I study? It’s relaxing and in my head now.”

The older one comes out from his room and says, “This music Mamma…it’s beautiful! It makes me feel all warm inside, like the soundtrack of ‘Amelie’. It’s just…” and he moves his arms, looking towards the ceiling, as if he were going to start dancing on air.

Like the planetarium scene in the movie…sigh!

The best thing that was said? When I played the Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone duet, “City of Stars”, before everything else and he said, “What song is that and who’s singing it, Mamma? She sounds just like you!”

There is a wonderful online portal that discusses relationships called https://www.bonobology.com. Their tag line is “Real Couples. Real Conversations.” And in keeping with the “Make in India” times of our country, this website is a product of a smart, savvy, homegrown bunch, all from apna desh.

Why this intriguing name? Well, bonobos, also known as pygmy chimpanzees, are our closest living relatives. They, along with their cousins, the chimpanzees, share a whopping 99% of our DNA! They show characteristics of empathy, patience and altruism. They are kind and sensitive, but are also capable of getting aggressive too. When it comes to sex, they are the only non-human animal to engage in tongue kissing, oral sex and face-to-face coitus. But that’s where the similarity ends, because other than those few moves…well, let’s just say that it’s a never-ending Carnavale de Rio meets Mardi Gras meets Navratri Dandiya with multiple orgies thrown in for good measure.

Bonobology.com explores the dynamics of relationships in this ever-changing, fast-paced life of ours, the good, the bad, the funny, the ugly and the dark. They also have an impressive line-up of doctors and experts who write articles and even address questions sent in by the readers.

I’ve been invited to write for the portal and am sharing the first few that have been posted on their site. I look forward to writing more which I will share on my blog as well.

I hope you enjoy reading these reviews and articles. The first is a review of Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni’s best-selling “The Palace of Illusions”, the second is a review of Sharanya Manivannan’s highly acclaimed, “The High Priestess Never Marries” and the third is a piece about a wife’s realisation about her husband’s deep love for her after many years of marriage.

So remember my last blog post about a poem I wrote, “From the Dingy Apartment Everywhere”,and which appeared last month in the online magazine called “The Algebra of Owls” (oh how I love that name!)? Well, it’s up for poem of the month. Yaay!

Kind people who still read this mainly defunct blog, please do vote. Just click on the link below and do the needful. Thanking you and wishing you poetry, moonlight and chocolate.

What I am about to share here is nothing new. The feelings are as old as the Art of the Word. This is not my first time feeling these feelings, nor will it be my last

and I know I am not the only one. There are others who have felt this way and died millions of tiny little deaths inside their souls, and there are people, as yet unborn, who will inherit this awful legacy.

Writer’s Block.

How does one kill a feeling? How does one gain mastery over it? Conquer it? Most important of all, how does one not let it cripple you?

The blank pages staring back at you, sometimes unyielding, sometimes pleading and sometimes just stone cold dead, aren’t the worst things about this affliction. The plague of self-doubt that tags along as a side effect? Yes. That is quite the cyanide pill.

Writer’s Block. Bloc. Blog.

Blocked.

Like a stuffed up bladder with no release. Like killer constipation. Because this feeling? It’s as shitty as fresh dog poop on the heel of your expensive new shoes.